


Rain Clouds Come To Play, Again

by boltschick2612



Series: Shattered [3]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, New York Rangers, POV First Person, Tampa Bay Lightning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 06:38:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltschick2612/pseuds/boltschick2612
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vincent's whole world falls apart, and he refuses to accept the truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain Clouds Come To Play, Again

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place immediately following 'Shattered'. Most of the dialog, along with the title, was taken from Evanescence's "Hello". Story not true.

I study the cracks in the mirror, shattered in as many directions as my thoughts. I stare at the spiderweb of glass as if somehow it holds all the answers. Answers as to what my future holds, and why it suddenly feels as if my past has been erased. It's gone, just like him. Gone the second metal crashed against metal.

I trace my fingers along the cracks, letting my mind go everywhere and nowhere all at once. It feels as if I'm wrapped in a dream, this can't be real. This can't be happening. Things like this don't just happen. My universe is supposed to have order and structure, it's not allowed to be so weak that it completely falls apart the second a single thread is pulled.

We were meant to be together forever, not separated by distance, time, and then death. He was supposed to come back....

He wasn't even supposed to be in New York....

Maybe this is all a dream. That's the only way I can wrap my mind around all that has happened. Afterall, I was laying in bed, thinking about him, when this whole nightmare began.

That's it. This isn't real. It's nothing but a horrible nightmare...

Then why can't I wake up?

I turn the sink on, and watch the water swirl down the drain. Swirling circles into oblivion. Where does it all go? Where does anything go, once it ceases it exist? Where does love go, once the person you bestowed it upon is gone? Does it disappear, just like water down the drain?

Why can't I wake from the horrible nightmare?

My eyes move from the water dancing circles around the white porcelain sink, and back to the broken mirror. Except this time, I see something I didn't see before. I see a familiar face reflected behind me, and I finally know that I've woken from the nightmare. I spin around to face him in shock, still uncertain that it's real.

"B-Brad?"

My voice falters, but a smile spreads across my face. Every second that passes, I become more and more convinced that he's really here.

"I knew...knew there had to be some kind of mistake. I knew it couldn't be true."

The need to rush to him overwhelms me, yet some small part of my subconscious is holding me back, almost like it's privy to some secret the rest of me refuses to accept. And when he speaks, something inside me knows this isn't right. The nightmare starts to creep back in.

 

"Has no one told you he's not breathing?"

I'm robbed of speech and coherent thought. I stand there for what seems like forever, trying to put the pieces together, lips moving with all the words I can not say.

"I am your mind, giving you someone to talk to," he utters, and his voice is without echo, sounding flat as it fills the room. More of the nightmare creeping back into my mind. Yet some small piece of me holds on...holds onto the hope that if I simply close my eyes again, I'll be back home in Tampa, and Brad will be safe in New York.

He hasn't moved or shifted, another clue that the nightmare is real. If Brad were really here, he wouldn't just stand there as my sanity dissolved and I fell apart. I look down and close my eyes, whispering to him, and myself at the same time. "If I smile and don't believe, soon I know I'll wake from this dream."

And that's it. That's the answer. Fight it...and it will cease to be reality. What is reality, anyways? I'm not even sure I know anymore. It's a subjective, fleeting concept, and it's whatever your mind tells you that it is. His voice filters into the air, still sounding painfully flat, yet filled with a lilt of emotion.

"Vin...You have to accept it. You have to accept the truth that I'm gone."

I don't look up to meet his eyes, I don't even open mine, and a tear falls to the floor as I know he's right. At the same time...I just can't. I can't believe it, can't believe that he's no longer here. Suddenly, an irrational wave of fury sweeps over me, and I shoot my gaze up to meet his. I'm sure the storm I'm feeling inside reflects in my eyes as I stare at him across the empty, quiet space. "Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken."

He doesn't flinch, doesn't show any signs of emotion. It's almost as if he knows exactly what I need. He moves towards me and reaches up to brush away the tear that was rolling down my cheek, and I feel the cold breeze sweep across my skin. He whispers, and my whole world comes crashing down upon me.  

"I am the lie, living for you so you can hide...don't cry."

Suddenly, I know I'm not sleeping. There is no nightmare to try and pull myself from, I'm living it. And I will be for the rest of my life. He gently lays his hand on my chest, right over my heart.  "I'm still here, all that's left of yesterday."

 

Everything that was holding me together fails in an instant. My knees weaken, and I have to lean on the sink for support. Sobs wrack my body, and I know that when I open my eyes again, he'll be gone. Something in me wants to keep my eyes closed forever, hold onto the last image of him in my mind, hold onto the memories of all the times we've been together. I don't want to open my eyes against the bright lights of the hospital bathroom to discover that I'm alone, and nothing will ever be the same. 

Except, when I finally manage to open my eyes, I'm not alone. There's a figure standing by the open doorway, and for a moment, I'm not even sure he's real. This can't be...except the fact that it is. I know without a doubt that the man I'm staring at this time is really here. I know this despite all the alarms going off in my head telling me that there's no way anyone could have known about this yet. John swore he hadn't contacted anyone but me.

But here he is.

I wasn't used to seeing him like this. I was used to seeing him either peering out from behind a goalie mask, or plastered on some damn website or magazine, impeccably dressed and wearing a million dollar smile. Now....now he looked haggard. Tired. Dark circles were cast under his eyes and his usually perfect hair was disheveled. He had been through hell, and it certainly showed. Some small part of me thought about how he shouldn't have that right, the cross of looking visually distraught should be mine alone to bear. He stays in the doorway, unmoving, looking like a deer in the headlights. Clearly, he didn't expect to find me in this room. Or maybe he didn't expect to find me here...at all. The shock finally clears my brain, and I'm able to speak before he does.

"What are  _you_  doing here, Henrik?"


End file.
